


Turn From Your Wicked Ways

by MissKatt



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 23:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKatt/pseuds/MissKatt
Summary: Renee's struggle with religion and how she found solace in her God.





	Turn From Your Wicked Ways

**Author's Note:**

> This a request from a friend. Enjoy.

Renee had never so much as stepped foot on church grounds until she was adopted by Stephanie Walker. Since then, she'd grudgingly joined Stephanie every Sunday and sat through the group-help discussions hosted by the church every Wednesday - but only because Stephanie asked and Renee could admit she didn't want to disappoint her. That didn't mean she had to say anything though. It took Stephanie several weeks to get Renee to go, which she did more out of guilt than anything. 

She'd been having nightmares every night since she'd come to stay with Stephanie. Sometimes memories. Sometimes things that could've been. She'd woken up screaming one night, Stephanie rushing into her room. Stephanie had sat by her and waited until Renee caught her breath, stroking her long dyed black hair from her face. When Renee had calmed and pulled away, Stephanie had look at her with sad eyes, but no pity. 

"I pray for you, every night," she admitted. "For your sense of safety and for you to sleep well. For your happiness and health." 

And Renee had snapped that she didn't need Stephanie's worthless prayers or pointless religion. That some cosmic force wasn't going to fix her problems, she had to do that herself. That if there was a god, he sure as hell wouldn't care for someone like her. 

Stephanie sat quietly through Renee's tirade before telling her to get some rest. She'd make pancakes in the morning, with strawberries like Renee liked. 

The following Sunday, Renee went to church with Stephanie. The guilt for snapping at her after everything she'd done to help was eating at Renee. Just this once, Renee thought, to make Stephanie happy. Then never again. The sermon that morning had been about understanding. Renee left feeling even more guilty. She formally apologized that night to Stephanie. 

"He's your god. You believe him to be all powerful and kind and I shouldn't criticize that. You're asking for help for me from what you believe to be the most powerful being in existence. That means a lot. I shouldn't have said those things to you." 

"He could be your god too, Renee. If you'd let him. He loves you already. He always will."

Renee said nothing, but she felt a piece of her heart break. She didn't tell Stephanie she didn't deserve a love like that. But she vowed to be more understanding, more tolerant. 

She went to church when Stephanie did now. For reasons even Renee didn't fully understand. If someone asked why she went, she couldn't tell them. There was just. . . something. And for a girl who'd survived on nothing, it was enough to keep her returning. 

The church was oddly comforting, she finally decided. Renee had expected hard, uncomfortable pews and snobby old people in decades old clothes. Kids standing rigidly by their parents side - seen and not heard. She'd expected beige walls with beige carpet and faded yellow light. What she got instead was padded pews and welcoming smiles. Laughing children, running around. The walls were beige, yes, but the gold crosses and red carpet made it a sort of classy appearance. 

And though she hated to admit it, she found the large stainglass windows just behind the choir to be exquisite. The depictions of golden streams of light and gentle, nonjudgemental faces settled Renee more than she could admit. 

Renee sat through the songs, she did not stand with the others and she did not sing, though the book of hymns sat in the pocket of the pew in front of her. Stephanie never said anything about it. She sang softly and devoutly, not needing the hymnal for help. Renee would be lying to say the smooth cadence of a few dozen people singing in harmony wasn't an ethereal experience. She'd never witnessed anything like it. She decided it made sense for her to find comfort here - it was beautiful and the people were kind and she known so little beauty and kindness. 

But though she found comfort in the church itself, she could not understand the comfort the congregation found in their God. As they bound their heads to pray on the seventh of Renee's Sunday visits, and she saw them murmur their own prayers alongside the Priest's, watched them clutch rosaries and each other's hands, Renee thought of her fourth night at Stephanie's - listening through the door while Stephanie prayed. Renee didn't think people prayed like that. Just talking, asking, seeking; informal and easy. Stephanie talked to god like he was a friend. She talked to him about Renee. A little girl in the back of Renee's mind screamed desperately for something to be that devoted too, for something that reliable, something she could find that much peace in.

There was one thing about the church she could not bare, though. And that was the sermons, especially after how guilty the first one had made her feel. The priest was a soft-spoken old man, who's voice nonetheless carried through the cathedral. He spoke of forgiveness and mercy. He waxed poetic about unconditional love and gentle guidance. Renee listened with growing anger through each of his sermons and when Stephanie and she finally left, Renee always went straight to her punching bag in the basement. 

Stephanie had asked once why talk of forgiveness and love made her so angry. Renee didn't answer until later that night. She and Stephanie were watching a TV drama when Renee finally put together the right words. 

"Because it's a lie. A false comfort. There was no mercy in that house before I ran away. There was gentleness guidance in that gang. And there is certainly no such thing as unconditional love or forgiveness."

Stephanie had looked at her in silence for a minute before taking Renee's hand. "I love you. And that will never change. And I forgive you, even if you don't forgive yourself." 

And Renee had scoffed. "You only say that because you don't really know what I've done. You don't who I am." 

"I know who you are," Stephanie had replied, her voice firm. "I may not know who you were, but I know who you are. You are a beautiful girl with an ugly past. You are as strong as gravity and as patient as the wind. If and when you ever want to talk to me, I will always be here. No judgement, just love. I will love you, until the sun goes out." 

Renee hadn't said anything ,  
-couldn't say anything, no one had ever said something like that to her - and Stephanie let the conversation go. 

That had been months ago and now Renee stands under the stained glass mural of the church. It is late and the place is silent. Only the votive candles to the side of the stage light the room. She'd started coming here a few weeks back. She'd needed a place quiet and familiar after a particularly bad round of nightmares. The church is open all hours of the day, a priest always there and ready to support. Most times Renee is the only one there, sitting silent in the pews. Other times there is a grieving family member or a desperate parent or a heartbroken lover kneeling at the stage and praying like it would do anything. Renee wonders how they could believe so strongly in something they can't see, in something outside of themselves. She wishes for something that she can rely on as much as they do on their God. She wishes she could find comfort in the recitation of prayer like they do. She wishes she could swallow her pride enough to ask for help. 

Maybe that desperation, that need, for something to hold on to, is what leads her to the confessional. She stands there for several minutes before pushing back the curtain, sitting in the darkness. She feels her heart beating. Unconditional love, she thinks. I'll see about that. Forgiveness? Let's just see if this priest can still offer that once I tell him what I've done. 

The small door between the two sides opens. "Hello," says a voice, soft and welcoming. 

"Hello," Renee whispers, barely audible as the rage leaves her and she realizes where she's brought herself. She realizes she is supposed to say something like, 'forgive me, father, for I have sinned' but she can't bring herself too. 

They sit in silence. Renee counts her breaths. When she reaches 482 she speaks as she breathes out, "Do you think everything is forgivable?" 

Without hesitation, the priest speaks, "By humans, no. We are fallible and imperfect and judgemental. But by God, yes. If one truly repents." 

It is an answer Renee didn't know she needed. That even if people couldn't overlook her past, maybe that was okay. Maybe some could. Maybe it was okay if they couldn't. And if the god the priest believed in could forgive her, she wanted to believe in Him too. 

"Thank you," she says. Her voice cracks. She feels drained. She does not want to tell the priest any more. 

"Until next time," the priest murmurs back. Renee find she can't say she won't be back. 

She returns to the confessional two weeks later, it is a Thursday night and Renee is shattering. 

"Hello again," says the same voice. 

"Hello," Renne says. 

Silence. 

"You need not say anything," the priest comforts. "He knows already all that you would tell Him." 

Silence. 

And then Renee confesses. She confesses it all. She feels lighter as she speaks into the darkness, even as the tears track down her face her voice is steady. 

She ends her confession and awaits her condemnation. The reply she gets instead is: 

"Ecclesiastes 3:1-3 says 'For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted," the priest pauses for a heartbeat, ". . . a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up.'" He waits and then continues, "I think it is time for you to heal, time for you to build up." 

Renee does not return to the confessional. She does, however, return to the church on the bad days. On the bad nights. 

Weeks pass. She listens more to the sermons. She dyes her hair blonde and streaks it with pastels. As opposite as she can get from the black. 

Months pass. She reads her bible more. She opens up, slowly, to Steph. 

Gradually, she finds God. And she finds forgiveness. And she finds peace. 

Steph gives her a beautiful pale blue beaded rosary when she graduated high school. 

And the day she leaves for Palmetto State University, she finds a new bible in her bag. It is inscribed on the cover: 

If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin...  
~ 2 Chronicles 7:14

It is not an easy transition. And there are days she still doubts, times her faith is tested. But she believes in Him, and His love. And she will live for him, to do for others what he did for her. What better place to start, than with the Foxes?


End file.
